


But Who's Counting

by ignipes



Category: Supernatural
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-02-04
Updated: 2008-02-04
Packaged: 2017-10-03 05:14:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ignipes/pseuds/ignipes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times Sam Winchester saved his idiot brother from certain doom.</p>
            </blockquote>





	But Who's Counting

"You owe me."

Sam jabbed the spade into the ground and tossed the dirt aside; it rained onto the damp grass with a soft patter.

"You owe me big time. It's starting to add up."

Another few shovelfuls and Sam grunted with surprise when he hit something solid. A familiar clank, metal on stone. He took a moment to catch his breath, exhale in relief.

"Remember that revenant in New Jersey?" Sam started digging again, carefully scraping thin layers of dirt away. "I don't know what it is with you and New Jersey corpses, dude, but that was really sad. You would have lost an arm if I hadn't showed up when I did."

It didn't take long to clear away the dirt from the stone; it wasn't big, about the size of a manhole cover. Sam dug out an area about six inches around the perimeter so he could use the crowbar for leverage.

"And what about that Dr. Jekyll/Mr. Hyde dude in Florida?" Sam tossed the shovel aside and kneeled on the damp grass. He bent down, used his hands to scrape the dirt from the edges of the stone, cleared the carvings of mud, tossed a few fat worms aside. "You totally fell for his sob story. He would have _eaten_ you. He had the coals on the barbecue and everything."

When the stone was clean, Sam leaned over and rummaged through his backpack until he found the candles and matches.

"I'm not going to mention the succubus in Vegas." He set the candles in the dirt around the stone, six of them in an evenly-spaced circle. He struck a match and lit three of the candles before it burnt down to his fingers; he struck another for the rest. "I don't like thinking about your hairy ass buck naked and hogtied on a heart-shaped bed any more than you do."

The flames danced bright and yellow; black wax began to drip in slick lines. Sam could feel the heat of the candles on his face, soft and gentle against the chill of the night.

"Or those goth kids in Texas." Sam reached into his pack and brought out the book, found the page marked by a tattered red ribbon and laid it open on the ground. "I mean, dude, I don't mind rescuing you from ghosts and monsters and cannibals and strippers--or _Hell_, you asshole, but I really hope this is a one-time deal--but I shouldn't have to worry about fifteen-year-old girls with plastic fangs. That's sad."

The carvings on the round stone were easier to see in the candlelight. Sam traced his index finger over the words etched in a flawless ring: _Lasciate ogne speranza, voi ch'intrate._ There were elaborate flames and curlicues dancing around the words, somehow both whimsical and menacing. Sam snorted and shook his head.

"You better be ready for me, Dean," Sam said quietly. "You better be fucking ready. And when I get you out of there? You are going to owe me for the rest of your life."

Sam sat back on his heels, angled the book toward the candles, and began to read.


End file.
